


A School Of Higher Learning

by Sirifall



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, Gen, Marcy - Freeform, Naturalists, R!Mabel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:18:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3821806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirifall/pseuds/Sirifall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Transcendence AU: Meeting a demon is never a good thing. Meeting a demon that's trying to save you from your murderous teachers is just plain weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A School Of Higher Learning

Marcy didn’t like the Paprous School Of Higher Learning.

In fact, she hated it for all her hate was worth. She hated it when her neighbor, a dryad by the name of Jerry, told her why they no longer lived within five miles of that place and the surrounding area. She hated it when the brochure somehow came upon her Father, a pro-natural and violent store manager that decided that his daughter should not ‘flirt’ (talk to, wave to, look at, be friendly or polite to) anyone or anything other than human - and no, not the humans at the marches, because *that* crowd 'participates in things that I don’t want you thinking about’.

She hated that she stood outside this school every single morning since the beginning of the school year, trying to think of any excuse that would get her out of class. She hated that she had already used up her two allotted sick days (yeah, only two, gods forbid anyone have any sort of health issue) and so couldn’t pass high school if she took one more day, apparently.

And she hated - well, had a low tolerance of - anyone that supported the school. Try as she might, Marcy still could not find it in her to truly hate any of these people. They were cowards. They couldn’t raise a single finger against magical beings or otherwise.

But their kids could, and that’s what this school practically trained them for.

She hated it.

“Mrs. Alph?”

The teacher didn’t even try containing the sigh, joined by three of the twenty kids in the room. “Yes, Marceline?”

“I’m confused, see, we were taught last semester in Magical History that lower level demons lived in mirror universes like the dreamscape, and that they usually only handled small payments and are mostly peaceful with the proper wards.”

“Your *question*, Marceline.”

“I’m wondering why the book says that even small and usually benign demons like Daves are violent and unpredictable?”

“Because all demons are violent and unpredictable, Marceline.” Her voice flowed through the sentence as if it wasn’t insulting an entire species. “That’s why it is forbidden to summon any sort of creature - because when you do, that creature will consume your soul without a second thought. Or a thought at all.” She snorted.

Marcy’s eye twitched.

She should really let it go.

Demons are famous for being near-omnipotent con-artists and, usually, really *are* violent if they’re not contained properly.

She should let it go.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” She scowled, as if her questioning had personally offended her - it probably did, but who cares? “That demons and the like are known to be brutish and power hungry, and should be contained in their own planes of existence. The summoning of a demon puts everyone in the area in danger.”

“Have you ever been to a summoning, Mrs. Alph?”

Half the class gasped quietly. The teacher herself looked just about ready to send her to the front office. “No, I have *not*, because such things are dangerous and against the law.”

“Well, because - wait, no they aren’t!”

“They are, Marceline, I have looked into it.”

“Well then you would know about -”

“*Enough*, Marceline! Either stop arguing with me, or cost the entire class vital information on your next test!”

She huffed, earning a glare, but quieted.

The lesson continued.

* * *

 

Her Father groaned at the sight of her paper. “What have I told you about that sort of thing?”

“What sort of thing?” As if she didn’t already know. This had been going on for months now.

“Doodling on your school notes is a waste of time, Marceline! It only distracts you from the course - why do you think I’m paying for you to go here?”

He would be paying for her to go literally anywhere else, if he had that option, but such things were not meant to be. “I don’t know.”

“What was that?”

“I don’t know why I go to that school! Why is it so important? Half of the standard State classes are ruled out! And the other half is rewritten!”

“That school is the best damn school in the state! No, shut your mouth!” Marcy obliged, glaring her words instead. “Paprous is, by far, the *safest* school I have ever come across - one of the only ones that doesn’t encourage courses on demonology!” She almost sighed. Again with the demons. “I just want to keep you safe, and this school is helping me. Just. Do this for me?”

The question would have been heart breaking if she hadn’t heard it three times in the last two weeks. This was going nowhere. “Fine.”

* * *

 

Marcy was enraged.

En. Raged.

It had started as a ~practical demonstration~ seeing as she apparently had this 'unnatural and upsetting obsession with demons’. Worded and recited to her and only her, as if the man reading it believed she would be confused by the wording and therefore easy to manipulate. He had called on others too, all in private. She knew most of them - some of the only students that refused to speak for the schools ideals. A twelve-year-old boy named Corey, blond head just barely reaching past her shoulders, had gone in ten minutes before her and hadn’t come out. A teenage girl - she didn’t know her name, but she looked only a year or so older - had gone in ten minutes before him. Marcy assumed they were being gathered for some sort of impromptu counseling session.

Well, it was close.

They were sacrifices. Hand picked sacrifices.

Admittedly, the school didn't know about this - only a few of the teachers. She recognized one from across the room, a man named Donald Fortuna.

She suddenly found that she had an acute hatred for Donald Fortuna. The first man she ever really, truthfully hated in her life. If she were anyone else, she would say he had earned a prize.

But, Marcy being Marcy, she settled for spitting in his general direction.

Donald noticed the gesture.

He strode past two coworkers, currently lighting scented candles.

He raised his leg, and, as she watched, leveled it with her face.

And then everything went black.

* * *

 

“Shit, look, okay, I didn’t mean to scare you, please just move out of the way -”

She felt something warm against her. Whatever she was laying on, it was cold and wet and like stone and she was very uncomfortable, so uncomfortable, and her head hurt so much -

“Don’t look at me like - no no no, look, I’m not going to hurt her -” At this, she noticed the warmth of a smaller body pressing closer, a hand being placed on her shoulder and staying there. “I need to make sure she’s okay.”

Some part of herself huffed at the voice. Dumb. He’s being dumb, she’s perfectly fine, as always. Well, not always, but definitely this time - it takes more than one blow from a wanna-be killer to take her down.

Oh, right, she was kicked. That’s… probably why her head hurts.

One mystery solved.

“What…?” Marcy winced, cracking one eye - and yup, she could only open that eye, great - just wide enough to see a small blond head lowering closer. “Corey?”  
He sighed right in her face. “Marceline? Are you alright?”

“I could have told you that if you would just let me within five feet of her.”

She almost found herself rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She groaned and, finding her wrists untied (oh right they were tied, the whole cultist thing happened, why does this surprise her?), pushed herself into a seating position.

That’s when she noticed the unhealthy amount of blood coating the concrete floor.

She had been lying in a pool of blood that was (she checked as quickly as she could, not noticing any sources of pain from anywhere other than her head) almost certainly not hers.

*Gross*.

Oh, and there was Corey, also covered in blood but alive. “We are alive, right? We didn’t die in a summoning while I wasn’t paying attention?”

Corey laughed in shock at her tone. “… Well… someone did.”

“That group won’t be bothering anyone anytime soon.” The other guy strode forward, ignoring Corey’s sudden sounds of protest. He was smiling, showing off multiple rows of shark-like teeth. “Or ever again, really.”

“You’re a demon.”

He snorted, somehow managing to sarcastically float above her head. “And you’re a human.”

She stared, noticing with a small shock that she was meeting black-and-gold eyes without a second thought, didn’t higher-level demons have some sort of natural spell for anyone that met their eyes, or was that all hocus pocus from the school? Her eyes flicked around, more out of curiosity than anything else, and discovered floofy brown hair under a seamless - floating, why was everything about him floating? - top hat, and a well-fitted suit to match.

And little bat wings.

Thankfully her tired limbs stopped her before her mind could, because for a moment she returned to five-year-old mode and just *really wanted to mess with those wings okay?*

Instead, she said “You’re Alcor the Dreambender.”

“And you’re Marcy the Girl.”

She grinned. “Well *you’re* a snarky dope!”

“And *you’re* -” He paused, smile fading into this weird look, and oh god what was she just doing, messing with an SS level demon as if they were friends, oh no, oh no. “Well, first, you’re gonna be in trouble.”

“Wait, what?” Corey spoke up again. “I thought you got rid of them all!”

“Not that kind of trouble. And don’t doubt my abilities.”

“You said you would let us go!”

“Hey, I didn’t say a single thing to you! And it’s just police troubles, calm down!”

Corey looked sick. “Police… Right, the… police. How do they -”

“I sent them a call.”

“Do you even know how to work human addresses? Or phones?”

He huffed, glaring at her, and somehow she wasn’t dead which was very gratifying. “Just because I’m not human doesn’t mean I don’t know how to talk to people.” He softened (softened, why, what - …oh yeah, she read somewhere that Alcor actually likes kids, the would explain a lot) and offered a hand from where he floated. She felt magic twist around her and was surprised to find herself distinctly Not Panicking as he gestured her into standing, and the throbbing in her head was going away, and oh god this is great she could go send a fist straight through Donald Fortuna’s miserable face with energy to spare and -

She sighed, feet meeting the ground. “Thanks… Um, should I give you something?”

Alcor shook his head. “I took enough earlier. Just don’t tell anyone that I’m handing out favors?”

She nodded.

A cult kidnapping her and at least two other students right out of the school, injuring her, and Alcor the Dreambender coating the floor with blood and then turning around and fixing her black eye ‘as a favor’.

Oh, right. “So, what do we tell the police?”

He grinned again, both only realizing she should be shocked at this when Corey gasped at the sight of his teeth. “*You* won’t be telling them anything.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re going home.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you gonna escort me, at least?”

Corey suddenly launched into her arm and latched on. “Marceline, what are you doing!”

“If he wanted to kill us, he would have done it already!”

“But he’s a *demon*!”

“… Sure?” They turned to 'the demon’, who was currently fidgeting and looking worried about an inch above ground. Some part of Marcy registered that it meant something along the lines of 'don’t be scared of me look I can be sorta human look’ but don’t ask her how she knew.

She grinned. “Good! Corey, are you coming with us?” He shook his head violently, still latched onto her arm. She sighed. “Can you at least let go of me?”

His grip loosened. “But -”

“I know. It’s okay!”

“Is it?” Alcor interjected. “He’s right, I *am* a demon. Aren’t you worried I’m gonna eat your soul or something?”

“Nah. Let’s go!”

* * *

They appeared in Marceline’s room.

Marceline herself suddenly felt the need to throw up.

Alcor flinched at the sight of her leaning over the nearest toilet and making gagging noises, and then was- right there, floating upside-down above the bowl so he could see her face. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Dumb question. What a dumb. Dippy dumb.

“What?”

“What what?”

“Did you just say 'Dippy dumb’?”

“Did I? I don’t know…” She groaned into the bowl, spitting out what was hopefully the last bits of bile that she would have to taste on the next decade.

He floated away. “Um, I’m gonna…”

“Leave?”

“Yeah…”

“Come back tomorrow?”

He was silent.

“I want to know what happened. Tomorrow.”

“… Sure. Bye.”

He poofed out - more like a blip than a poof, judging from what she remembered of the feeling - and she was alone.

* * *

“... What?”

Her father looked confused. “It's Monday, Marceline. Did you forget?”

“No – I mean, I thought – you didn't... hear?”

“Hear what?”

“About the cult, and – and the attempted sacrifice and the demon at the school?”

“... Marceline, what are you talking about? Is this...” He sighed. “Look, I know you don't like this school, but investing your time in demons -”

“I'm not!”

“I got a call from one of your teachers yesterday, Marceline. About demons.”

She held in an angry snarl. “Oh, what, now you all think I'm possessed or something? I have _always_ been this way, dad! I've _always_ liked the people you're scared of, I've _always_ hated how you treat my friends, and I have _always_ had an interest in -”

“In demons!” He frowned. “I understand! But I will not allow my little girl to – to go around summoning things you can't control! Do you _want_ to be cheated out of your life? Do you?”

“I've never summoned anything!”

“Have you?”

“No!”

He sighed after a brief pause. “And every time I pray, I pray that you never will. That's  _why_ I need you in this school, Marceline. I  _need_ you to learn how dangerous these things are.”

“I know how dangerous they are!”

“Then you'll know I'm in the right!” He shouted, and Marcy gasped before she could contain it. It wasn't often that her father shouted, being the reserved man he is. He seemed to realize this too, and took a step back. “You'll continue going to this school, Marceline Haupton Forrest. That's final.”

She choked on her anger, unable to force out another word, and slowly marched back to her room, glaring all the time.

After all, it was Monday. School started soon.

* * *

There wasn't a word of it.

She caught Corey in the hall, looking as apprehensive as last night as she woke up. He sagged in relief as she walked up to him, obviously overjoyed that the demon– that Alcor did actually get her home safe.

“No one's talking about it.” He whispered over the daily gossip. “It's like nothing happened!”

“It happened.” She insisted, thinking of summoning circles and bat wings. “I wonder if anyone found out yet?”

“The police came last night.”

“They did? Then why isn't it all over the news!”

“I don't know! Tabitha thinks the school paid them to keep quiet.”

She pulled up short. “Tabitha?”

“My sister.” He sighed, and the thought made Marcy flinch. Two siblings forced through that experience... “She was called down before us. I thought it was for yelling at the Magical History teacher, but...”

“Guess not. So she thinks the police have been paid off?”

“At least the news reporters have. There's no way this can keep quiet forever, though. People are going to notice how many... teachers... are missing.”

She thought for a minute. “... How many  _are_ missing?”

He went silent for a moment. “... I don't know.”

She thought back, remembering how bloodstained the floor had been, how it had gotten all over her as she lie in it, all over Corey as he tried to wake her up while beating back what he believed to be a danger to them – it reminded her of something. “Hey, why are you at school? Shouldn't you be at home, you know, recuperating?”

“That demon, whoever he was, got rid of all the evidence on me before you guys left. When the police escorted me home... my mom... didn't...”

He folded in on himself a little, automatically sending Marcy forward to hug him. “Shush, it's alright... like you said, they can't keep this quiet forever...”

“... I don't wanna find out what happens when they tell her Marcy...” He stared straight through her. “What if she thinks I'm tainted? What if she tries to fix me?”

She held him closer. “Then... then you can come stay with me, okay? I was there, I'll believe you, I know you're not tainted, Corey. I know you're not. There's no such thing.”

“How can you know that?”

She laughed. “I'm the one that led a demon into my home, and I'm fine. See?” She pushed him back a little so she could share a smile. “If I turned out alright, so will you. Okay?”

He took a breath. “Okay.”

Half the teachers were out that day, replaced by substitutes for an indefinite amount of time. Only a few students actually noticed the change, most caught up in the new rumor floating throughout the school – a certain little blonde boy was seen hugging, even kissing (some say), Marceline Forrest out on the front porch.

A football player blandly asked Marcy if she was dating a 'scrawny little blond midget'. Marcy nearly kicked out his teeth.

* * *

Marcy came home angry. Angry enough to take her bag by the top handle and throw it hard enough to thunk against the opposite wall, fifteen feet away.

It made a satisfying  _thunk_ .

And then she was reminded of that morning.

“Ugh...” She paced to the stairs, kicking her bag halfheartedly and plopping down, grunting as the crick in her back that had developed over sixth period met the stair lip, and frowned at the ceiling. “... How...?”

“I'm guessing this is a bad time?”

She squeaked, flinching so bad that her elbow somehow lodged itself between the railing and the wall. “Fuck!”

She didn't even see the demon until she yanked her arm back to where it should be, and  _then_ she took stock of what or who scared her.

Oh god, he's doing the thing. The kicked-puppy thing.

She sighed. “I'm not hurt, you dope, quit with the face.”

“What face?”

“That face! The face you're making seriously right now – don't stick your tongue out at me, mister!”

“What, like this?” Okay, that's terrifying. Marcy watched as an organism that looked vaguely like a tongue slithered out between the edges of his smile and writhed in the air in front of his face.

“Yes, like that! I _know_ that's not your real tongue!”

“And what if it is?”

“Then it's a super creepy thing that wasn't there before and _it's not_!”

He laughed. “Okay, it's not my real tongue.”

“ _Thank_ you!”

The grin he sent her was laced with glee and sharp teeth, even reaching to black and golden eyes while he floated around to an area above the couch. Marcy returned the grin, bad mood forgotten in the same all-too-easy banter that had once made her fear for her life. When he floated to the center of the room, she followed, settling on a couch arm.

“That – last night...” The mood sobered. “That was real though. Right?”

He sighed. “That was real.”

“... Is it gonna happen again?”

She noticed a pulse of something in the air as the question left her lips, but chose not to mention it. “ N̮o̟͉̦̞̝̼͕t͚̗̤ ̡͍i͖f͕̫͇͚̬ͅ ̣̙͞I̪̯̟̞ ̗̩̳̞̀h̡av͏̰̞̱̭͇e͏̣̥̗̣̜ ͔͉̬̜̦͞a̙̭n̢̻̰͚͓̭̙y̺̟̥͜t̝͖̯̝h͙̠̫̮͉̤i̪̙̹̪̼̕n̪̪̣̲̰͟g̨ ̗͖͢t͚́o̩͠ ̵̺̟͇̻s̢̟͕a̪̳̺y͍͞ ̣̭a̹͓̩̖̝b͓͈͜o̷̫̥͔ųt͚̘̦̫̳͕̙͡ ̥̱͍̘̖̬͟it̞̱͜.̀ ”

“But you can't be everywhere at once!”

“Į҉ ̛̀͜c̶a͠n t̴̵ŕ̴͜y͢͜͝.”

“You will not!”

“I҉ ̧c̴̛a͝n̨͢ a͘͘nd̛ ̧͢I̶̕ ͟w̛ill̀҉.”

She sighed. “Inside voice, Dip.”

“S̸̢h̴i t, sorry...” He considered her for a moment.

Of course Marcy had looked into near-death experiences – being so interested in things concerning the Transcendence and what followed, research rarely skirted around such things as important visions brought in life-threatening situations. However, instead of going into sudden clarity like she had read, everything dulled around Marcy. It was as if time had suddenly paused to take a breather, fading into monotone only for a second. Her eyes had just enough time to examine a stone-still dust particle in the air, suspended and unaffected by her breath, before time decided to dutifully resume it's pace.

“But I ca͖n͈ make sure this doesn't happen again. Wouldn't you want that?”

She frowned. “Why are you so concerned about me?”

He groaned – a monstrous sound that somehow echoed in her ears and almost made her want to roll her eyes at a demon for the second time in twenty-four hours. “We are not talking about this.”

“We are.”

“Not.”

“Are.”

“N͈̳̻̗̪̬̪o̡t̖̠.”

“ _Are_!”

“Fin̶̷e͘͢!” He turned on her, eyes glowing. “Y͙̜̿͋o̝̙̬̖̟͙ͩ͌̒̓ͅu̢̲̯̇̚ͅ ̡̫̤͙̠ͪ͗ͨ̍̌̾̏ẉ͔̏͞aͨͫn̙͚̣̳̊̾̎̄͋͠t͖̱̘̋̏̀ ̹̺͖̠̲̉̄͊̊ͮt̪͈̘̹͖̣̰͑̊͐o̱̞̰͔ͯ ̞̬̲̻̮͡k͑͊ͩ̀n̈́ͨ̃̇͆͒͗͏̬̩͔̤o̧̝̞̩̣͕͓̗̓̎̒̏̏̾ẉ̽̎̔ͭ͋͐ͅ t̨̖͕̲̻̭h̷̫̳ę̗̗̫̲ ̵̤͎͉̭t͍̻̝͍͙́̊̋̉͆ͩ̚͢r̦̟̝̖̘͎͍ͨ̿ṳͪ̄̀̚ţ̺h̴̬̙̩̞͍̱ͭ̈? Y̛òư͝ ̵̕w̡͘á̕ǹ͝t ͏t̶̢̕ò̀ k͏n̶o̕͞wẁ̨̡̲͔̪̟͔̬̩̳̪͔ẖ̢̗̲͙̙̳̼̟̦͙̙̜͘͢͝ͅy̵҉͕̞̲͈̲̻̞͚̲̝̻̗̟̰̦͎̝̤̰I̛ ̶c̀͜͠a͜͞҉r̴̵e͏ a̧͟b͢҉o͘ųt k̢͢e̵͜e͏p̴̧̀i͢n͘͠g͢ y͡o͝ų҉̷ ̛a̧̕͟l͢͢iv̵̸͝e͠? W̸̡h̀͢ý̷̴͘͟ ̢҉͟I̴͘͝ ̀͝ą͡c̸͢͡t̨̀u͏̸̡͘à͜҉̕͠l͡҉̧͝l̢͢y̧̛͝͡ ̷̨͢c̷̨͡҉a̡͢͝m̡͝e̵͘̕͢ ̶̕͟w̸̨h̸͘͢͟e̸n̛ ̀͝y͏̢o̸͟u͟ ̀͟ć̷͜͠a҉̷͘͝l͟͏l̸̶̨̨̀e̸̡̕͏̀d̕ ̴͜͏͘m̶̧̨͘è͢?”

She tried and failed to scramble back, falling off her perch on the couch and bracing herself instead. “But I didn't call you! How would I?”

“Ỳ̸̴҉̨ò̧̨̕ų̷͘͟͠ ̛̀c͏̵͏á̶̸̛l҉̶͘͘l̶̛͞e͟͜d͘͞͞ ̷͢͞m҉̧͞҉e̢͠ ̷̴̨͢b̨́̀̀é̵͜ç̸̡̛̕a̕͡u̡͝s̸̡̛͢é̷ ̶̨̧̀͜y͜͡ǫ́ų́͜ ̷͘̕a̡r̷̀̕e̡͢ḿ̷̷̡̗̥͚͙͙̿̈̓͒͛̈ͭ̓͌̈̔ͧͮ̿͛̉̀͞i̴̸̥͉̜̬͇̱̳̙̳̟̞̎̃ͥͨͮ̃n̶ͣͣ̈́͆̆͆ͫ̾ͬ̓ͣͪ̽͑̉̎̚̚҉̠͙͎̟̰̯̪̭̜͔͇̣͕͙̲͟͞e͒̓̈̂͏͏͉̼̭̜̜̮̖̥̦̦̝̹̀͢.” He hissed, took a breath, and steadied. “I͓͘ ̼̯̰͇ͅw̨̺̜i̢̻͎̝̦l̪̺̥̦̥̱l̟͇͕͖̟̹ ̖͖̟̣̼͎n̺͍͍̟̩o̮͓͓̺̺̭ͅt̖-” Another breath. “I̶̷ m͟e̢͞a҉͜n͝҉... I̧ ͞d̸o̴n't͞ ͟wan͘t͏ to... Ugh, I fucked this up, didn't I?”

Marcy couldn't bring herself to answer.

He sighed again. “ Miz̛͝a̧̡͜ŗ ,  s̛͠p͜͝è̸̡a͢͝k .”

“What do you mean, I'm yours?”

And so continued and explanation Dipper knew far too well.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
